Nothing of Any Importance
by Colorado1
Summary: A M/R and N/V story, following "Edges of the Day"


DISCLAIMERS: These wonderful characters aren't mine, unfortunately

DISCLAIMERS: These wonderful characters aren't mine, unfortunately. And more unfortunate still, I am not rich because of them.

SPOILERS: None

NOTES: Read "Edges of the Day" first. The Queen of Angst (me) takes a little break with this one.

Nothing of Any Importance

By Colorado1

Lord John Roxton, shirtless and sweating, hammered relentlessly on the windmill long after his coworkers had taken refuge under some nearby shade. The sun had hit its high point in the cloudless sky, but he didn't stop. From the shade of a sheltering palm grove, Professor George Challenger, Ned Malone, and Marguerite Krux watched him.

"He must make sure that board is on its axis," Challenger muttered.

"He's trying to show us all up," Malone said, wiping his brow.

"He's trying to have a heat stroke!" Marguerite said loud enough to get Roxton's attention. He looked her direction, smiled a crooked smile, and kept on hammering. Veronica approached the group with freshly filled canteens.

"Roxton! I've brought fresh water!" she called. He waved but remained on the ladder. 

"Thank you," Malone said as she handed him a drink. She noticed with a smile that the damp sandy-blonde hair at his temples was curling and that his tan complexion was a shade darker. Challenger and Malone quickly drank the cool water, then stood. 

"Back to it, Malone," Challenger said, adjusting his hat. "Let's get this job wrapped up!"

Veronica sat down next to Marguerite. The dark-haired woman was repairing a tear on one of the windmill panels.

"Why won't Roxton come get some water?" Veronica asked. 

Marguerite smiled sadly. "Because I'm here."

Ever since Roxton rescued Marguerite from slavers a month earlier, the once-happy couple had been shrouded in melancholy. On the day they returned to the tree house, Roxton had blurted out a hasty, heartfelt marriage proposal. Marguerite, still shaken from her ordeal, had turned him down kindly but firmly. He said he understood, but their relationship changed. They didn't bicker like they used to, nor did they share meaningful glances and kind words. Instead, they shared only a silent space of sadness. But more often than not, they avoided each other.

Marguerite shaded her eyes with her hand and watched Roxton swing the hammer. The way the muscles rippled across his back quickened her pulse. _What might have been_, she thought unhappily.

"I may as well go back to the tree house so he'll come over here," she announced, standing. "We can't have the great hunter passing out from dehydration."

"Marguerite, this is silly. You love him, right?"

"Yes."

"And he loves you?"

"Yes."

"Then..." Veronica's slate-blue eyes widened in aggravation.

"Sometimes love's not enough," Marguerite said. "I hurt him when I turned down his proposal. If there weren't already enough in my past... Now I have... It's too much." She took her rifle and walked quickly to the tree house, her long ponytail swinging from side to side.

Veronica watched protectively as Marguerite went the short distance to the tree house and ascended in the elevator. Even though she knew it was irrational, Veronica still felt partially responsible for her friend's kidnapping four months ago. If she had only been more vigilant, Marguerite never would have left the tree house alone. The three months she was missing were ones of desperate worry for Veronica. It was as if her parents had disappeared all over again.

Marguerite never told her what had happened during those months, but Veronica knew enough of the Plateau to imagine, and her heart went out to the heiress. Marguerite was right--it was too much to deal with, certainly too much to face alone.

"Where is Marguerite off to?" Roxton asked as he walked up and reached for a canteen.

"Back home," Veronica made no secret of her disapproval.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked crossly.

"I'll tell you, Roxton! You're behaving like a child! You both are!" Veronica scolded. 

"Veronica, you don't understand."

"Yes. I do. You love her. But your pride is hurt, so you're pushing her away."

"She made it perfectly clear..."

"That she couldn't marry you. I know. But you need to give her some time."

"That's exactly what I'm doing."

"By avoiding her? Roxton, she needs you to help her through this!"

"And I'm here, Veronica. Whenever she wants," he said. "She knows how I feel about her. But I won't beg."

He tossed the canteen down and angrily walked back to the windmill. Malone, who had observed their encounter, came over to Veronica.

"Are you OK?" he asked gently.

"Those two are so stubborn! They love each other. Why are they letting anything keep them apart?" she exclaimed. 

Ned looked down at his boots. "Sometimes you can love someone with your whole heart and still something happens..."

"Nothing of any importance," Veronica said firmly and turned to go to the tree house.

Ned wistfully watched her lithe figure easily traverse the distance to the tree house.

"Nothing of any importance," he echoed.

The dinner Summerlee had made was nothing out of the ordinary—dried raptor meat, homemade bread, and boiled greens. But the silence at the table was unusual. Marguerite ate quickly and excused herself with a cup of tea to the balcony. Roxton, still stung from Veronica's chastisement, wouldn't look her direction or Marguerite's. He sat in an ill humor until everyone was done, then began to clear the table.

The two older men went to Challenger's lab while Veronica and Ned sat in the living area. Veronica looked from Roxton, who tossed the dishes about carelessly, to Marguerite, who stared into the coming darkness.

"Ned, we have to get those two back together," she told him matter-of-factly.

"'We' do?" he raised his eyebrows. "Since when am I involved?"

"Since right now," she smiled. "I have an idea..."

"Marguerite? Can you bring in some water?" Veronica called.

Never one to arise early, Marguerite walked into the living area with half-closed eyes. "Wasn't it Roxton's turn?" she asked irritably.

"He isn't here, and Challenger needs it or the experiment will be ruined..."

"Well, heaven forbid science wait for me to have a peaceful morning!" she said grabbing her hat, rifle, and a bucket. As soon as she had left on the elevator, Malone motioned to Veronica, who ran to the top of the stairs.

"Roxton? Are you down there?" she called.

He climbed the stairs two at a time. "Now where else would I be? You said Challenger was waiting for me in the lab, but he isn't there!"

"Sorry. He just went down in the elevator," she reported. Mumbling curses under his breath, Roxton entered the elevator that had just returned from ground level.

As soon as he left, Veronica raced over to Ned. The two rigged the elevator controls so the elevator couldn't return to the tree house. "A little togetherness will make them talk," she said.

"Veronica, this prank could end differently than you expect," he cautioned.

She smiled mischievously. "Let's tell Challenger and Summerlee it's OK for them to come out of hiding."

Marguerite gripped the bucket handle in one hand, her rifle in the other. She didn't like coming outside alone anymore. Every unexpected noise set her nerves on edge. Still, this was a lovely morning. The sky was washed clean, and the air was filled with the heady scent of a hundred wild flowers. 

The sudden breaking of branches directly ahead froze Marguerite in her tracks. With trembling hands, she dropped the bucket and swung her rifle into readiness.

"Who's there?" she demanded with more fear in her voice than she realized.

"Marguerite?" Roxton stepped into view. Without thinking, he walked up and enveloped her in his arms. "Oh love, I didn't mean to frighten you. What are you doing out here alone?"

She stepped back into the mud puddle her spilled water had made. "Getting water, which you were supposed to do, I might add."

Roxton's face was a study in confusion. "I did bring in the water. First thing this morning."

"But Veronica sent me to get it!"

"And she sent me down here to find Challenger."

Marguerite wiped her soiled boots on some nearby grass. "I smell a rat. A lovely blonde rat."

"A well-intentioned rat," he added with a brief smile.

"And the road to hell is paved with?" she asked, returning his smile. They stood staring at one another, unable to look away. Finally, Roxton cleared his throat.

"Well, we may as well go back," he said. Marguerite's roses-and-cream complexion, warmed by the early morning exertion, held a becoming blush that accentuated her large gray eyes. However, Roxton saw nothing of the lovely light that once lit up her face. It had gone out four months ago, and he felt helpless to bring it back.

"Yes," she agreed, still not looking away. Roxton's jaw was firmly set, his thin but passionate lips pressed together, his dark-brown eyes pleading with her for...something. This was the face she loved, the man she loved. He would be at her side in a heartbeat if she only asked.

"John..." she began.

"Yes?" he answered quickly.

"She meant well. She just doesn't understand," Marguerite said softly.

"Oh," he said, turning to the side. 

"She doesn't understand," she repeated a little louder, "that things aren't the same between us."

"Yes," Roxton said, ill at ease. "They aren't." He stepped aside and gestured for Marguerite to walk ahead of him. They went to the foot of the tree, but to Roxton's exasperation, the elevator wouldn't go up.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Damnation! Another well-intentioned ploy, I believe," he slammed his palm against the bark. 

Marguerite smiled slyly. "Would you be up to teaching our little matchmaker a lesson?"

Roxton raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

"Veronica! Malone! Come quickly! Roxton is hurt!" 

Veronica leaned over the railing. Far below Marguerite stood waving her arms.

"Nice try, Marguerite. But you're staying down there!"

"No, no, he really is hurt!"

Malone joined Veronica at the railing. "Maybe we should go see, Veronica."

"Ned, this is just a trick," she said confidently and walked away.

"Malone, do you want Roxton to be raptor food? Please help me!" Marguerite called. "Malone, I swear this is the truth! He needs help!"

Ned hesitated then quickly went to the elevator controls. In a matter of minutes, the elevator was working, and he was on the jungle floor. Seeing the red stains on Marguerite's blouse, he set off on a dead run to where she was pointing.

Roxton sat at the base of the windmill pressing a handkerchief against his forehead, which was covered in redness.

"What happened?" Malone asked anxiously.

"A support board fell," Roxton winced. Malone supported him under one shoulder, Marguerite the other. Together they helped him back to the tree house.

"How can I help?" Veronica looked ashen as the others helped Roxton to his room.

"You've done quite enough," Marguerite said sharply. Ned retrieved the first-aid kit from the kitchen and handed it to her. She shut the bedroom door behind her.

Marguerite bandaged Roxton's "cut"; Roxton quietly watched her every move.

"There now," she said with exaggerated sympathy. "How does that feel?"

"Better," he replied with a grin. "How long are we going to keep up this ruse?"

"Oh, I don't know. Until she—and her accomplice—have learned a lesson," she said, looking down at her white blouse. "I hope these berry stains will come out. It really looks like blood, doesn't it?"

"Real enough to fool those two," he whispered, and they shared a quiet laugh. "This is nice," he added a moment later.

Marguerite looked at him longingly. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," he said. "I only wish..."

"Yes?"

"I only wish that I could wind the clock backward to four months ago. Or at least to one month ago. That day I brought you home..."

"Was the one of the happiest of my life," she finished for him.

"The happiest day of your life includes a bungled marriage proposal?" He raised himself up on one elbow only to be pushed back onto the pillow.

"Bungled? No. Never. Not from you," Marguerite brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead. "Just ill-timed."

"I can't change how I feel about you. I want you to be my wife."

"I'm not asking you to change. I'm asking for some time," Marguerite said barely above a whisper. "I...need your help, John."

"Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

"I can't tell you, because I don't know!" she cried, quickly standing. He reached for her hand and pulled her down on the bed next to him. They lay facing one another for a long time. He reached out and pulled a stray blade of grass from her hair. 

"Your hair is a fright," he teased, reaching again.

She slapped his hand away. "It is not."

"You haven't seen it recently then."

"Well, you won't win any beauty contests," she retorted. "Not with a big bandage on your forehead." She kissed her fingertips and gently placed them on the white gauze.

Roxton caressed her face with the back of his fingers. "One way or another, I guess we're stuck with each other."

She looked at him tenderly. "It always seems to end up this way."

Veronica stood on the balcony, hot tears stinging her eyes. Angrily, she wiped them away. Of all the stupid, juvenile things to do--trapping two people in the jungle, then not responding to their cries of help! She struck the railing in anger.

Malone left her alone for a while, then walked purposefully over to her. "Veronica, that was a silly trick," he began.

"Don't you think I know that, Ned?" she said in distress. "Roxton could've been seriously injured, and I just let them stay down there. Thank God you had the good sense to take Marguerite seriously!"

"You meant well, Veronica. And who knows? You may have done some good. They've been in there a long time, and I don't hear any screaming."

Veronica shook her head. "No, Ned. It was wrong of me to interfere."

"Maybe so. But you opened up my eyes," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, facing him.

"You said that nothing of any importance should stand between two people in love. I thought of a dozen different arguments to that...but then I realized you were right. All that matters is that the two people love each other." He paused and took a deep breath. "So. Here it goes. Veronica, I love you."

Veronica swallowed hard. "You love me?"

"Yes."

"But...what about Gladys?"

He shook his head. "I did love her. Or thought I did. But she really didn't love me. She didn't even know me that well. I was just a rising star at her father's paper. No, I don't love Gladys. I love you."

Veronica's cheeks were burning, and her throat was dry. Ned shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"This is where you say that you love me, too," he tried to laugh.

"I do love you," she shyly whispered.

He pulled her to him and felt her lean body weaken in his grasp. "I told you this prank could end differently than you expected," he whispered hoarsely.

Nearby a wild jungle bird screeched. 

"What was that?" Veronica murmured quietly, looking into Ned's clear-blue eyes.

"Nothing of any importance," he said and lowered his lips to hers.


End file.
